286 
AFRICAN HUNTING. 
them show me the way, and I found a small pit in 
the solid rock, about eight yards in circumference, 
and about nine inches of tolerably good water. I 
immediately sent my after-rider to the wagon, to tell 
my people to bring the oxen and water-vats. Twelve 
oxen drank it as dry as a board, and eight poor 
beasts had to go without. It was a long way from 
the wagon, and though I started at sunrise it was 
sunset before the oxen got back ; we inspanned those 
that had drunk and treked all night, the next day 
and next night, and half the following day, when we 
arrived at Nkowani, where we found abundance. 
Three days after leaving the river Beauclekky, I 
came across the Bechuanas—Wilson’s wife, Sechele’s 
daughter. Wearied and foot-sore, unused to walking, 
she was dead-beat and unable to proceed. I acted 
the part of the good Samaritan, and gave her and her 
brat a seat in the wagon all the way to Sechele’s. 
The child annoys me greatly; he is about twelve 
months old, a sickly, pale yellow, having powerful 
lungs, and an everlasting squaller. I don’t much like 
such baggage, and she is attended with a retinue of 
Sechele’s people, who, though they have bucks, 
sheep, and oxen, will kill none, but live on me. 
However, I can’t help it, and have meal enough to 
see me to Merico. Some hard-hearted brutes, Mang- 
watos, one night left behind them a little Masara boy, 
who was entirely knocked up, to die of hunger in 
the desert, or, more likely, become food for the 
wolves and jackals. I heard of it the next morning, 
